


Come and Talk to Me

by 1Afleckted1



Category: DCU
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy, no smut yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:48:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21801667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Afleckted1/pseuds/1Afleckted1
Summary: You meet Arthur and have coffee.
Relationships: First meetup
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Come and Talk to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. This is not my first fanfic, but it’s my first post and first crack at someone x reader stuff.  
> I have not seen the movie as I have a young child and Joker is not for the kiddies. So, I’m writing based on the trailer and not much more. I’ve preordered it, so hang in there. This is a free form story and I hope you enjoy. Be nice and leave some paw prints below.

❤️Come and Talk to Me❤️

Overcast days can be a drag. Getting caught in the rain is not your favorite thing to do but you’re on your way to make some money, which is good.  
Traffic isn’t bad today, the gray streets swell with people moving along with the ebb and flow. It’s almost 11 a.m. as you hurry along the semi crowded streets to the rendezvous point.  
Your plan is to get in and out fast so you can go home and rest before hanging out with your friends.  
Across the street you catch sight of a clown waving a sign and dancing energetically in front of a store, smiling and waving. Not an unusual sight to you; you’ve seen all kinds of things in the city from costumed characters to bums and everything in between, which can be fun when you have time to people-watch. Now wasn’t the time, though, for your client was waiting two blocks over by the movies.  
You spot your friend standing at the bus stop and in less than a minute make the hand off. After a few fast words you say goodbye and make your way back to where you parked your truck. 

The sign-holding clown is still there in all his joyful glory, so you pause a moment to observe him: green fuzzy wig, plaid jacket and clown shoes. Clowns aren’t a thing for you but something about this one makes you stop and look. Most of the crowd ignored him and moved on, some paused to stare out of bored curiosity but you..you decide to stand nearby and watch.  
He plays with the crowd like a professional, making silly faces and peppering his routine with raucous laughter. A few people stop to laugh and some even go into the store to check out the sale.  
You want to talk to him and possibly have a conversation and get his phone number but instant shyness holds you back. Nerves twine your stomach at the idea of saying anything to him, which is rare. Don’t forget, grates your inner voice. You remember the last idiot, right? Don’t be so quick to jump into shit. Let’s just go home. Grab some food and forget this clown.  
Nah..you’re going to stay a bit and gawk, without appearing like a stalker chick. Too bad you don’t have a newspaper to duck behind. So, you glance at your watch or your nails whenever the clown looks your way.  
You’d make a great spy. Not.  
It’s been two years since you got dumped so you’re not looking to meet anyone else, not right now. The wounds are still fresh. Shit, you don’t even want to think about it..but there is something that is pulling you, compelling you: 

Talk to him. Come on, just for fun. Do it!  
Yeah. Guy like that prolly has mad girls, you’d be just another. Let’s go home and count our money. We look hella damn dumb standing here. 

With a small sigh of frustration you say it’s not worth it and trudge back to your truck while cussing yourself out for being stupid.  
You focus instead on the various buildings and other landmarks as a distraction instead of the dancing sidewalk clown whose antics are already starting to settle into your head. 

The next morning finds you sitting at the table with your cup of coffee and a half eaten breakfast sandwich. It’s sunny, and not too cold. Laundry is done, the garbage is outside, groceries from shopping put away. Because of your unusual job, days are open to do most anything you might want, and all your chores are done. You even managed to get a birthday card for your best friend.  
Road trip.  
After a shower, it’s time to dress for success. You flat ironed your hair, put on some black leggings and a tan cowl-neck sweater. Gold hoops and a good dose of perfume top off your look, you spend ten minutes debating between leather coat or suede coat. 

Damn girl you act like you’re on a date. You even put on the French perfume for some clown who probably doesn’t even like girls like you. For all we know he could be into having sex with antelopes. 

Shut up. 

As you drive towards the city your mind again drifts back to your new friend..what was his name? Was he single? Did he even see you there? Where did he live?  
You turn up the music, concentrating on the road and the deep thump of the bass. A forest of green and white signs announce your arrival into the city as you take the only route you know downtown. The overpriced parking garage sucks as always but you don’t care; a little walking was a small price to pay if he was there.  
And he certainly was, taking center stage with his sign-twirling and high stepping. This time, you inch closer to him but not so close as to seem obtrusive. You simply wish to check him out on the low.  
He’s dancing across the sidewalk when you both look each other in the eyes for a split second.  
The saliva in your mouth dries to dust, your face tingles.  
You feel your heart thumping in your ears and you can’t breathe, and if your conscience was saying anything to you, it was as silent as a rock.  
Time stops for an indeterminate length while your eyes are locked with his.  
He spins around in a graceful turn to wave at you with a wide smile; you wave back but panic sets in.  
Abruptly, you walk away on shaky legs towards any establishment that might have a place for you to sit and hide or at least a rock to crawl under for a while until you get yourself together.  
Fuck it. You make a beeline to the parking garage to sit in your truck as your heart rate slows down. Eyes closed, you take deep breaths to relax and ask yourself what in the world has gotten into you. Why are you carrying on like this?  
You go home in a foul mood, more angry with the way you acted than the cash you spent at the parking garage.  
Before you fall asleep, you fantasize about what would go down if you talked to him. You’d call him, get to see him in his bare face and go to the movies together. There’d be long walks and-

And then he dumps you after six weeks.  
Will you knock it off! We haven’t even met and you’re carrying on over getting dumped. 

Tomorrow is gonna be different. I’ll walk up to him and give hm a note with my number on it. If he calls me, great. If not, I’ll stay single forever. Less headaches that way.

If there was a way to describe how you got up this morning, it probably would go something like this: you popped out of bed like a toaster pastry and danced your ass around like it was your birthday.  
A smile was plastered on your face as you prepared for the big moment with the dancing clown. Again, you choose your clothes carefully..dark wine jeans, black turtleneck and simple gold posts. Hair in a high ponytail and damned if your edges were not photo shoot-worthy. Minimal makeup and a spray of a special fragrance you only wore once a year. You are not playing games today, it’s all or nothing.  
The most difficult thing for you to grasp is how smitten you’ve become in two days-two fucking days! over an anonymous man!  
That, and the fact that you were pursuing him was blowing your mind, most times the guys came to you.  
But it felt good. You haven’t felt like this in ages and maybe it was time to get back into the game. Maybe. 

Overcast skies blanketed the sky in shades of grey that matched the city the morning you arrive to see him. Your step is springy and confident as you walk; boot heels click in a rhythmic beat on the concrete in time with your thoughts.  
Panic suddenly taints your reverie when you get there—where is he? The store is open but there is no clown!  
Numbness creeps up your body like a vine as you walk closer to the store. You go in and see customers browsing. You ignore a clerk’s offer to see something and rush out in shock. Maybe he’s on a lunch break? No, you’ve been showing up at roughly the same time, so it’s not that.  
It hits you suddenly, like a brick: it’s his day off. The day you finally get up the nerve to make a move and poof!  
A torrent of foul language in English and French whirl through your frazzled mind. No point in staying.  
A total waste of time.  
This is what I get for doing dumb shit.  
You recall seeing a restaurant near where you met your friend a few days ago and decide to have a meal and some coffee. Might as well make the most out of this, right?  
Once you enter, you take note of the worn-out interior of faded paint, ancient flooring and a server who looks like she’d rather have an anesthetic free root canal than be working.  
You didn’t want to look outside or have to talk to anyone so you snagged a booth near the back  
to mope in peace.  
There’s always tomorrow but you’re not thinking about that yet. You’re stuck on where your sign twirling clown is.  
You turn your head to look for the server and see she’s walking to the kitchen. Great. If I’m lucky, she’ll take my order before Christmas.  
You sigh with annoyance and start get up when you hear a cough. Standing to your left is a man in a tan jacket. His hair is dark and falls in dark waves to his shoulders.  
“Do you mind if I sit here?”  
On any other day you might have a smart remark but not today, not now. “Sure,” you say.  
“Thank you.”  
His eyes are dark, topped with thick brows and a soft, sad look filled his face.  
“Were you looking for the clown outside Kenny’s?”  
Your eyes bug out, both hands fly up to cover your mouth.  
“That’s you?! You’re the clown with the sign!”  
He nodded.  
“I’ve been looking for you! But..how did you know I was here?”  
He gulped nervously before speaking in a soft voice. “I-I’ve noticed you watching me for the last two days and I knew you’d come back today.” Redness tinted his face as he continued. “I’m not working today but I went to the store and when you walked by, I followed you.”  
A wry smile crosses your lips. “I’ve never been stalked, but in this case it’s a good thing. Oh, hey-what’s your name?”  
“My name is Arthur. Arthur Fleck.”  
You introduce yourself. “Finally we meet.”  
The server finally appears with a pot of coffee strong enough to melt nails and sets cups on the table with a thunk! before wordlessly leaving.  
You took a moment to study him: his eyes were green, he had a scar on his upper lip, and his hands, which tapped nervously on the table, had long fingers.  
“I’m so happy to meet you. I wanted to since I saw you.”  
“Why?”  
For a clown, he seemed so serious, almost awkward. He’s probably a shy guy, but..  
You dig in your bag and hand him the notecard.  
He reads it, and suddenly starts laughing. The loudness and intensity alarms you but not in a ‘what-the-hell’ manner.  
Your head snaps around to see if anyone is looking and are thrilled to see if anyone was looking, they weren’t now.  
“It’s okay if you have a girlfriend. I’ll leave you alone, then. I-“  
Arthur hands you another card from nowhere like a magician and you read it. Now you’re glad you didn’t have a stupid wisecrack on your lips when he asked you if he could sit.  
“Oh. I thought you were laughing at me because you had a girlfriend.”  
“I don’t have a girlfriend and I wouldn’t laugh at you.” He looked down at the table and you felt bad for him then. “I have no control over it.”  
An invisible hand takes one of your hands and puts it on his. Your eyes meet again and this time you feel a tingling in your stomach.  
“Why don’t we leave this place and take a walk? We can talk some more and get to know each other better.”  
A smile forms on his thin lips in anticipation.  
“I’d like that a lot.”  
He pays for the coffees at the counter before you leave and you decide that things are going to be alright.  
Once outside, he lights up a smoke and thinks to himself that today is turning out fine and the possibility of you being his girlfriend excites him.  
At the garage, you tell him that you will call him later and maybe see him tomorrow if he’s not too busy. Arthur is a little sad that you have to leave but the idea of a call from you gives him a feeling he has not experienced in ages:

Hope.


End file.
